


Ghosts of Love Past

by Nelja-in-English (Nelja)



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Breathplay, Chains, Dark, Fearamid, Flashbacks, Humiliation, M/M, Memories, No Sex, Non-Consensual Bondage, Pet Play, Spoilers - Weirdmageddon 3: Take Back the Falls, Torture, Triangle Bill Cipher, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 04:17:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6408421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nelja/pseuds/Nelja-in-English
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The good memories Bill reminds him are terrifying now, hideously deformed. He does it on purpose. It's better this way. Ford killed his feelings for him long ago.<br/>(I had to write about the chains in Weirdmageddon)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghosts of Love Past

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Les fantômes des amours mortes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6104956) by [Nelja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nelja/pseuds/Nelja). 



> Thank to TangoOrangeQueen for the help with the English grammar!

It's a serenade; it's a promise and a threat. _We'll meet again..._

Of course, it reminds Ford of happier times, when Bill played for him. He laughed and blushed and silently thanked destiny, and Bill didn't need chains to keep him by his side. Bill does it on purpose, and Ford wonders whether the demon wants to coax him, or simply to hurt him.

Bill will get nothing from him. The love Ford may have felt for him lay dead and withered - ever since the day Bill betrayed him. It would not be that easy any more. He had, instead, spent years hating. It's a poison which, in sufficient doses, will destroy everything it touches and more besides.

The demon plays with his heart - _tries_ to play with his heart. He offers not only his usual seduction games (how could I let myself be tricked - how?) but a feigned sincerity, a hint at his origins and motivations. These are personal revelations that would have had Ford deliciously shivering in the old days, would have convinced him he was special.

Or maybe it would have had him running. But he was so naive, so stupid, he can't even be sure of it.

Listening to Bill's proposal - to destroy the laws of the universe, to make absolute chaos reign - he wonders who the demon thinks he's talking to. Thirty years ago, would he really have accepted this? Did he resent the world and humanity that much, for not being like him, for not being like Bill?

"You would be one of us." the demon says, and Ford grits his teeth.

He would have taken the offer, he knows it.

He used to shiver with every compliment from Bill, every approving touch. It made him feel weak and inferior though. But how could he protest, when that absent-minded attention gave him so much delight - he pushed his mind so hard to deserve it.

How could he take offense, when Bill was from a superior species, living so much longer than humans, holding so much more knowledge and power? What could he expect, more than being a cute pet?

He turns down the offer right now, rejects the possibility of being his equal. He still feels the shadow of the happiness he would have felt years ago, taking it gladly; on his skin, like a cold wind.

Like a ghost of his dead love, haunting him.

It makes him reject Bill with even more conviction. He insults him, taunts him, invoking all the strength of his real, alive feelings - the ones which are part of him, which are him. Ghosts have no place here.

Being human doesn't make Ford inferior, despite his weakness and Bill's power. His intelligence gives him knowledge the demon lacks; he has more dignity than him, and some ethics he clings to. It should be enough. Bill is nothing to him.

In the end Bill casually summons chains around his neck, to complement the ones on his legs, and Ford _remembers_ , he remembers too well.

_This same chain around his neck - Ford's head on Bill's lap - the demon's hands lost in his hair, messing it up, petting it, softly brushing his ear or neck - delicious - at the edge of his awareness Ford wonders, would I need it that much, if my father had sometimes ruffled my hair and said he was proud of me?_

"You chose to be just that," Bill whispers. "A property. A statue, or a human pet, whenever I feel like it. Not even a nice one, an obedient one, like you were. The time has come to discipline you."

The chain clasps on his neck, suffocating him. Ford would spit at Bill's face if his head wasn't spinning, his mouth panting for oxygen.

_He remembers - the chain briefly choking him - panting afterwards - his cock rubbing against his belly, without Bill even touching him - his cheek grazing Bill's leg - like an animal, like a pet - hating it, but it doesn't matter - fortunately I know what you need, Fordsy - you, only you - to be loved as you deserve"._

He suffocates; he thinks about death. Of course it won't be so easy. Bill lets him take a short breath, when tears start to run on his cheeks. Then the torture starts again. It could result in permanent brain damage, Ford thinks. How egotistical he is, thinking about this when the world is in danger.

One more puff of oxygen. Bill pulls his hair, hard, almost tearing a strand out. Ford's physical reaction to the mixed stimuli horrifies him. Bill snickers.

It's no longer even a ghost of Ford's old feelings, an empty shape. It's a moving corpse, hideously misshapen, arisen by Bill from its grave just to torment him; and he can't run away.

"Keep resisting," Bill whispers. "Actually it was a good idea. This way is slower, but much funnier. You love being put in your place, don't you?"

Chains around Ford's wrists spread his arms apart. The one around his neck twists around, making him look at the ground under his feet, or a few feet ahead if he strains his neck. Ford tenses, wondering whether Bill will pull out his hair again, or hit him, which kind of pain he must be prepared for.

Bill's hands touch his cheeks very softly, then his neck, his ears, pet his hair.

The demon can't be controlling his memories. Yet this time Ford can't restrain them anymore. They overwhelm him like a torrent, like dark Styx waters threatening to take him away.

_He feels like floating - not in air - in something so comfortable and soft - you're adorable, my Sixer, so brilliant, but so stubborn - Ford can't remember feeling that good - Bill's hands in his hair - you just had to ask, my favorite human in the whole world - Ford wanted to have it without asking, but he can't remember why - he would do anything for this, anything - he loves Bill so much, against everything, nothing will ever take this from him._

I hate you, he wants to scream, I won't feel this, never again! But he chokes on his words as his air is cut off once more. A sick, humiliating lust gnaws on his insides.

Ford closes his eyes and moans like an animal.


End file.
